


kit kat caramac

by loupettes



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Fluff, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-10
Updated: 2020-12-10
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:48:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,094
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27996270
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/loupettes/pseuds/loupettes
Summary: "By 'part-time-lord rubbish', do you mean our child?"Tentoo x Rose. Rose is pregnant and in pain, and the Doctor does his best to make her feel better. Fluff.
Relationships: Metacrisis Tenth Doctor/Rose Tyler
Comments: 12
Kudos: 55





	kit kat caramac

**Author's Note:**

  * For [doesitneedsaying](https://archiveofourown.org/users/doesitneedsaying/gifts).



> happy birthday lovely!

“I don’t suppose,” she began, pinching the bridge of her nose as a wave of complete agony spasmed down her spine, “there’s a way for the male Time Lords to carry the child the rest of the way to full term and give us women a break?”

He peered round behind him, dropping the knife and abandoning the rest of the onion to hastily wash his hands and get to her, now leaning heavily against the door frame. He put his arm around her waist and she grabbed his hand.

“Unfortunately, no.” He ushered for her to move, or perhaps wobble, back to bed. “Sadly, most species like to give the female that joy.”

“I’m thrilled.” She held onto his arm as he shifted the covers on the bed, helping her to get back in. “Remember when I said I was looking forward to my body experiencing this beautiful, natural journey? Be a good Time Lord for me and make it so that I never said that.”

“Well, sadly, I can’t travel back in time at this present moment,” he reasoned, “but I’ll be sure to, once we get that TARDIS up and running.” He began to pull away, once she’d settled herself down and as comfortably as she could, but she gripped onto his hand before he had the chance to escape her.

“Don’t you dare leave me - you get into bed with me right now or I swear to God this baby’s going to be without a dad.”

“Let me turn that frying pan off otherwise that baby’s going to be without a mum, too.”

She was so close to tears at him leaving that it was embarrassing. And that embarrassment was what finally did it, pushed her to tears. She sighed in frustration, reaching as far over as she could for the box of tissues, but the Doctor reached them first. 

“Alright then, c’mere,” he soothed, passing her the box and scrambling into bed behind her. She leaned back into him so that her head rested comfortably in the dip where his shoulder and chest met, his firm body being of better support to her than those soft pillows, mounted in their plenty behind her. She sighed - a shaky sigh that would have alerted her to having been crying more forcefully than acceptable had she not been pregnant excessively so, and this bugger behind her was refusing to carry the baby for her meant that she was well within her rights to throw her own pity party. She was about to grunt in frustration when she felt his cool hands soothing her hair, unsticking it from her sweaty skin. She sobbed in disgust. 

To be fair to him, he’d long since stopped chuckling when she’d started crying over the smallest things. It might be because he now genuinely felt sorry for her, and wanted nothing more than to help her. But she imagined it was most likely due to him being met by an unexpected but perfectly justified shift into extreme rage from her end. She looked down at her belly - not looking at all like it does in the movies, where she thought she’d have a cute bump with cute swollen feet that would make her have a cute wobble - and groaned.

“I’m so _giant_.”

“Your gravitational field is starting to quite drastically extend, I'll admit.”

“Nope,” she protested, holding her finger up indignantly. “That’s just that part-Time-Lord rubbish I’ve got going on in this womb starting up trouble with physics already.”

“By _'part-Time-Lord rubbish'_ , do you mean our child?”

“That’ll be the one.”

He did chuckle then, and she’d calmed down enough that it made her laugh too. But the laughter pinched her lower abdomen and she winced. He stilled until she released her breath, then placed his free hand just below her horrendously swollen belly button. She gasped; she’d complimented his naturally lower body temperature many times, when she’d be sweating around in the middle of the night for example, but she’d also cursed it, like how she couldn’t huddle into him when they’d be standing on the street in the winter trying to hail a taxi. Right now, though, it was an absolute blessing to be submerged in his cool. She held his other hand still, cupping the top of her forehead and sighed. 

“I look a bit like I’m attempting to rub your belly and tap your head at the same time.”

“I _was_ able to do that, you know,” she smiled proudly. “Was the only one in my class who could.”

“Of course you were.”

“Of all of the abilities I want this one to inherit, _that_ is top of the list.”

“Multitasking. S’an important skill, that,” he agreed. “Course, if they _can_ bend the laws of time, that'd be a good one to have too. Although that might be a little _too_ useful." He paused, thinking. "Let’s keep that one quiet until they’re old enough.”

“I say let’s never tell them,” Rose huffed. “Remember like in that film, _About Time?_ Be proper crap for them to have to keep that one a secret from their partner."

“Boy or a girl?”

She laughed out loud, despite herself. _Not this again!_ “Doctor!”

“Oh, come on! This doesn’t get to happen for us lot! Crafted into anything, we are - after that, the regeneration process is a lottery.”

“Gender is not assigned at birth, you know that.”

“Spoilsport,” he huffed.

She was pulling his leg, of course. She didn’t particularly mind, one way or another, but she knew he was betting on a girl. Most likely because she knew he was secretly hoping for one. Ever at loggerheads, then - because she pictured their child being a boy. She smiled as she imagined the two of them geeking out over prisms and the planetary status of Pluto. She could already see the Doctor trying to help him calculate the speed of velocity for whatever piece of homework he had to do that day, or showing him how to fix the chameleon circuit in the TARDIS. To be fair, though, she could quite easily picture their daughter doing the same. 

They lay in silence, both listening to their thoughts. She’d started idly twisting his wedding ring around his left hand while his right was still stroking her hair. She’d cooled down, that was for sure, but she was still uncomfortable. She always was, so it was now a case of labelling the uncomfortableness on a scale of _tolerable_ to _unbearable_. This was about a 7. She sighed sadly. 

“Anything I can do?” he whispered.

“Remember when you used to go back to the 90s to get me _Cadbury's Dream_ bars when I’d be feeling really crap? Can you do that?” she asked hopefully, but she knew it was pointless. She wished she hadn’t said it, actually, because she knew just how _down_ he felt over not being able to do all of the things he would have been able to do for her if he were still completely Time Lord. She felt his lips press the top of her head followed by the sound of his own helpless sigh. “Only kidding,” she added.

“Maybe I can’t nip and get you some from the 90s, but I can do the next best thing.” He began to move and she groaned in protest. “C’mon you, let me out.”

She reluctantly granted him leave, slipping down the bed a little too far in the process. He disappeared and, by the sounds of his footsteps, made for the spare bedroom. 

“You,” he called out, “haven’t been moaning enough.”

She blinked, drawing her eyebrows together as she wiggled further up the bed to sit more upright. “Well, that’s a first.”

“It’s true! You’re _pregnant,_ Rose.”

“I am aware.”

“And you’re pregnant with Christ only knows what.”

“But we'll love them no matter what, right?”

“You know what I mean! Human, Time Lord, a new breed of both that the universe has never ever seen before and you’ve handled it wonderfully.”

She smiled, gently poking her belly. "Hello," she whispered to it. 

“But you didn’t complain about it enough. Because you never do.” She heard him close the spare bedroom door behind him and make his way back through to the bedroom. “But I knew there’d be a day when you would, you see.” 

He appeared at the door frame, smiling softly. She smiled back in confused anticipation. “Which is why I kept this one quiet.” He grinned, pulling out from behind him a large bar of _Cadbury’s Dream_. 

Before she had a chance to scream in delight, he held up his finger. “There’s more.” He handed her a present, wrapped - actually quite neatly - in wrapping paper with miscellaneous _Swizzels_ sweet wrappers prints. It was fairly large, which shouldn’t have had such an effect on her, but she yanked it from him in excitement. He chuckled as she clawed her way through the wrapping paper, opening the box and gasping when she saw _multiple_ bars of _Cadbury Dream_ , amongst _all_ her favourite sweets growing up as a child. _Wonka_ bars, _Taz_ bars, _Fuses. Kit Kat Caramac, Whisper Mint_ \- _“Mars Delight!!”_ she exclaimed. “ _Toffee Crisp_! Oh my God, _Tooty Fruities_!” Far too many for her to lay out and count, so she simply stared in awe at them. She ripped straight into one of the _Cadbury's Dream_ bars, moaning when she tasted that iconic _Cadbury_ white chocolate taste that had long since been discontinued. Her eyes still closed to savour the taste, she reached out to source his hand. He helped her by taking it, giving her fingers a gentle squeeze. 

“ _How_ did you get these?” she whispered.

“My old blue suit, remember? The one I came here with?” She opened her eyes when she felt him pick through the sweets. “I think one of the last times I did this for you, I picked up a load to be safe. And I mean _a lot._ It was for that time you had that food poisoning on Tigella _and_ had a particularly unkind period that month.” She groaned: food poisoning and unbearable period cramps - the dream. “But by the time I got back to you, you’d passed out asleep. I kept the lot hidden away, save for next time you know? But then… well. You know.” She squeezed his hand - it was even now still hard for both of them to talk about. “Anyway. I ended up packing some in my suit because, well, they’re bloody tasty, those sweets of yours. Get a bit peckish, don't I? So when I ended up here in that blue suit, turns out I had all of these left. Loads of them. And I was waiting for the day you’d _really_ want them, but you’ve just been powering through - even a _pregnancy!_ But I think you could really do with them now, hmm?” He smiled, bending down to gently kiss her forehead. She’d started crying, of course, so he grabbed a tissue to pat the tears from her cheeks, chuckling as he did. “I’ll make you a tea.”

“Doctor?” she called out unevenly as he reached the door.

“Mmm?”

She tried to say thank you, to show him just how _happy_ and grateful she was for this, but in reality it was _everything:_ for all the times he’d massaged her feet; the times he’d helped her wash the sick from her hair; whenever he’d tied her shoelaces because she kept forgetting to buy decent supportive slip ons; the endless amounts of bras increasing in size he’d ran out to get her; the number of times he’d carried her to bed before she became far too heavy for him to do so; all the times he’d shaved her legs for her; the times at the beginning when he’d do all the shopping because the smell of supermarkets and clothing stores and _everything_ was just overwhelming to her; all the pickled onions he had to eat because her craving very quickly turned into disgust; all the reading he’d done about those first few days after the baby arrives especially, so she could just focus on resting; the little notes he’d pinned up on the wall about how whatever thing she’d done that day showed she was going to be a _wonderful_ mother. 

He watched her, tilting his head and smiling in understanding when she visibly struggled to come up with words. “You won’t be thanking me when our child has a crippling and unsustainable sugar addiction, thanks to your love of 90s sweets.”


End file.
